


you are made of nebulas and novas and night sky

by willowcabins



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: Alternate Universe - Firefly Verse, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Space, F/F, IN SPACE!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-09
Updated: 2013-11-09
Packaged: 2017-12-31 22:45:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1037257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willowcabins/pseuds/willowcabins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“This little crappy ship managed to lift off.” Helena grinned, affectionately running a hand along the ceiling as she advanced into the cockpit. “We left Atlantis. Finally. Though we did somehow pick up a shepherd and a ferret.” (Helena and Myka in space.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	you are made of nebulas and novas and night sky

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for AU Week, I've been excited for this fic for AGES. Basically, its a fusion of my own space universe (in which my NaNoWriMo story is set), Firefly and some small references to Treasure Planet (yes the animated film ITS AMAZING OKAY). The title comes from Vienna Teng's "Never Look Away".
> 
> this fic has been unbeta'd

Myka stood in the middle of the cargo bay, the setting summer sun framing her in the large open doors. Pete blinked and tilted his head, seeing only a silhouette with one hand on her hip. He waited, impatiently for a reaction as he dropped his arms. “You bought a ship.” Myka was not impressed.

“Yeah!” Pete gestured around the cargo hold again. “Its awesome!”

“You bought a ship,” Myka repeated, stepping into the cargo hold, arms crossed.

“With my savings,” Pete added, nodding. Myka grabbed Pete’s shoulder and spun him around forcefully, fixing him with a glare. Pete grinned.

“You spent all your savings on a ship,” Myka clarified. Pete nodded enthusiastically.

“Yup!”

“A crappy little ship?” Myka repeated, walking along to the edge of the cargo hold and tracing a hand down the slightly rusty metal.

“Ah, Myka, don’t be mean about it,” Pete pouted.

“But Pete, I don’t think you understand. You bought a crappy little ship with your life savings!” Myka floundered for a second, trying to come up with evidence of just how stupid this idea was. “You don’t even know how to fly!” Pete shrugged and made a face, waving away the concern.

“We’ll hire a captain!”

“We? Hire?” Myka turned to stare at Pete. “Hire?! With what money?” Pete grinned.

“Your savings!”

“My savings?!” Myka was agape.

“Look,” Pete quickly corrected himself: “we’ll fix her up, get a good mechanic, find a kickass pilot, maybe hire a cook and we’ll be up and running in no time. It will totally be worth it!” Myka’s look of horror only seemed to intensify.

“Up and running?” She asked tentatively. Pete mistook her meaning and sat down on the metal steps up to the main part of the ship heavily.

“Look, Myka,” he began: “I didn’t survive and fight this stupid war so I would just submit to this new rule. This way, it’ll just be us. Us and the universe. We’ll make our own rules and leave the whole situation behind.” Myka smiled sadly and sat down next to Pete, putting a hand on his knee.

“But we lost, Pete,” she murmured half heartedly. Pete laughed dryly.

“That doesn’t mean we have to surrender, Myka.” Myka worried her lip and glanced at Pete from the corner of her eye before she looked around the ship again and sighed loudly. Pete perked up at the sound.

“Just us?” She clarified, pushing herself up again.

“and whoever we hire,” Pete confirmed nodding. “We could take jobs wherever they came up.” She pursed her lips and ran a hand along the dull metal of the stairs. A thought occurred to her and she spun around, eyes narrowed.

“Are you going to be captain?” She demanded. Pete laughed.

“Oh no!” He shook his head. “I’m going to be the First Mate.” Myka smirked.

“Captain Bering.” She tilted her head. “I like the sound of that.”

* * *

“If you spent money on this ship, then I think you should call the Law Enforcers to arrest the man who sold this to you.”

“What?” Pete demanded, confused.

“I mean it’s a piece of shit,” the mechanic corrected. Pete pouted.

“No, it’s not,” He muttered darkly.

“Actually, it really is.” The guy shrugged, careless. “There’s nothing I can do about it.”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Pete begged.

“No. Now, please leave.” Pete just gaped. Myka bit her lip, frustrated. She looked around the shop and caught the eye of a little red head across the room. She was hiding behind a large jet engine, but was staring at Myka curiously.

“Hello?” Myka asked, walking over to where the girl was standing. She was barely a teenager.

“Did your friend say his ship was a Firefly class?” She asked, titling her head. Myka glanced back at Pete and nodded.

“Yeah, he did. He’s got the specs over there.”

“I know the one you’re talking about – Mak’s been in here like 4 times trying to sell it to Todd,” she brushed off. “I’ve gotten a good look at it and I’m pretty sure if you gave me two hours with it I could make it flyable.”

“Flyable? Really?!” Pete appeared next to Myka, staring at the girl in crazed excitement. The teenager grinned.

“If you take me to the scrap yard down in the ‘burbs I’ll get your ship up and running in no time. I love that ship so much.” She grinned and pushed some of her hair behind her ear in casual confidence movement. Myka immediately liked her.

“Let’s go! Right now!” Pete was grinning, ear to ear. “I’ll take you down right now.” Claudia narrowed her eyes.

“What kind of land transportation do you have?”

“We’ve got a solar boat.” Pete indicated where their ship was parked outside the door. Claudia peeked out a nodded.

“Okay then, first thing’s first.” She stuck out her hand. “I’m Claudia.” Pete shook it ardently.

“Pete, and this is my Captain, Myka Bering.”

“Captain.” The girl inclined her head respectfully. Myka grinned.

“You can call me Myka,” she assured the girl. “You’re not part of my crew.”

“Well, that’s the other thing…” the girl started. Pete’s eyes widened.

“You want to be part of our crew?” He asked, surprised. She nodded fervently.

“I’m the expert in the Firefly class. You know you want me.”

“What about your family?!” Pete asked, dismayed. Claudia shrugged.

“My brother works as an astrophysicist on Gabriel, so I’m here on my own.”

“On your own?” Pete glanced between her and Myka. “How old are you?” he demanded. Claudia inflated herself to her full height (which was not very tall) and crossed her arms definisvely.

“I’m nearly 19 years old!” She protested.

“17?” Pete glanced at Myka. “That does make her not a minor on all the central planets…”

“Pete!” Myka glanced at the girl and then back at Pete. “She’s 17!”

“And right here!” Claudia added, hand on her hips.

“I don’t know, you seem awfully young to be running around space,” Myka protested. Claudia sighed and shouted across the repair shop.

“Hey Todd! Todd!” The young man looked up. “Do you think I can fix this Firefly?”

“No way!” He called back. Claudia smirked.

“If I can get that ship flying, then you hire me. If I can’t, I stay here.” Myka crossed her arms, troubled. Pete stared at Myka imploringly.

“You have to let her go,” he begged. “Let her try, at least,” Myka sighed.

“Fine,” she snapped. “But I want written permission from your legal guardian that he does not mind you flying around the ‘verse with a bunch of ex-Indepence soldiers.” Claudia jumped up and squealed.

“Let’s go!” She clapped in excitement and started skipping towards the sun ship. Myka shook her head and sighed while Pete just grinned, excitement. As they nearly reached the ship, Claudia turned around. “By the way Todd, I’m quitting!”

* * *

 

“You expect me to fly this thing?” She was elegant and incredulous and terribly incongruous in the small cabin as she peeled off her black leather gloves. Myka suppressed a smirk: in the last two-weeks, the little mechanic had completely taken apart the cockpit before slowly and carefully reassembling it, testing every part. The best thing was, in Myka’s opinion, that other than copious amounts of drivers to the scrapyard, Claudia had no demanded anything. So yes, the colouring was off in the cockpit: that silver plate with the brass buttons was way more dented than the black controls next to it, but Myka liked the patchwork nature of the cockpit. It made it feel more genuine.

Their new captain obviously disagreed.

Pete reacted with a loud, insulted “hey!” while Myka broke into a grin and nodded emphatically, replying “Yes please.”

“What?” The potential candidate raised an eyebrow at Pete. “You don’t consider this a death trap?”

“No! No, I don’t!” Pete crossed his arms, offended. “She’s wonderful.” Myka caught her eyes and smirked.

“She’ll fly,” Myka amended.

“Only if I help you,” she corrected. Pete glared at her darkly.

“Myka, a word,” he snapped, dragging her by her elbow. Myka smiled apologetically and let herself be dragged out into the small metallic corridor. Out of the cockpit, Myka could hear Claudia’s banging around the engine room more clearly, and she smiled to herself, satisfied,

“I don’t like her,” Pete huffed, scowling and crossing his arms petulantly. Myka sighed,

“She’s got the best references from the Ariel Flight School I have ever seen,” She argued. “What’s not to like?” Pete uncrossed his arms and placed them on his hips instead.

“For starters, her attitude!” He began.

“Towards the ship?” Myka asked, eyebrow raised.

“Yes! Towards the ship! She,” Pete ran a hand along the metal, “deserves a pilot who loves her.”

“We already got a mechanic who loves her,” Myka reasoned, nodding towards the engine room. “I think between you and Claudia, we’re sorted.”

“That reminds me: where is your mechanic?” Helena poked her head out the door, friendly smile in place. “I want to talk to her.”

“Were you eavesdropping?!” Pete demanded, indignant.

“No, you were speaking really loudly,” Helena corrected.

“She’s down there, two doors on your left. She’s setting herself up in the engine room.”

“Great.” She smiled and started walking down the hall way, adding: “Also, my salary is non-negotiable and I get my own room.”

“You’re not hired yet!” Pete called after her. Helena turned around a raised an eyebrow.

“Really?” She asked as Myka fixed Pete with a glare. “I’m pretty sure I am,” Helena finished, turning around again and swinging around entering the engine room. Pete gaped at Myka, who just pointed at the stripes on her shoulder.

“Out ranked.” 

* * *

“We made it.” Myka looked up from her seat and saw Helena standing in the door way, silhouetted from the light of the gangway. She laughed quietly.

“We did,” she agreed, star at the space spanning in front of them again.

“This little crappy ship manage to lift off.” Helena grinned, affectionately running a hand along the ceiling as she advanced into the cockpit. “We left Atlantis. Finally. Though we did somehow pick up a shepherd and a ferret.” She turned around and leaned against the controllers as Myka focused on her again.

“Yeah, the ferret was unexpected,” she admitted.

“The shepherd was planned?” Helena asked, raising an eyebrow. Myka smirked.

“Touché.” Helena glanced around the cockpit before sitting in the co-pilot seat next to Myka.

“You know I put her in auto-pilot, right?” Myka smiled.

“Yeah, I know,” she admitted, folding her legs under herself and resting her cheek against the chair so she could look at Helena.

“Do you not trust me, Captain?” Helena asked, eyebrow raised. Myka smiled again.

“No.” She sighed. “I just have a hard time sleeping.” Helena laughed wryly.

“I know what you mean,” she murmured. Myka studied her profile for a while before directing her attention back to the endless void through which they were making their way. She sighed, oddly content with the blackness that was staring back at her.

It was comforting to know she was insignificant.

* * *

 

It was funny how easy it wasto develop a routine: Pete spent his days plotting their next assignment and drawing the other residences of the ship into games. He was wonderful at games: he had been wonderful for the morale of their troops back in the war. Claudia was always too glad to participate, dragging in Steve, and Shepherd Nielson likes to watch and referee when they play hoopball.

Myka found the sport fun and engaging and exhausting, but after the ship and the alliance and the Revearers, she found she couldn’t bring herself to play. “Just one game?” Pete begged the assembled as they sat at the table, nursing various hot beverages. Helena just patted Pete’s arm warmly.

“Not today, Pete,” She murmured, smiling sadly, the image of dead children still burnt in the retinas of her eyes.

“Don’t sulk!” Pete whined.

“We’re not wallowing, Pete. They’re mourning,” Steve snapped. Pete blinked, surprised at the harsh tone. “We’re mourning because a boat full of families and children were killed.”

“I know,” Pete replied icily. “I was there, you know.” Steve glared at him, jaw set belligerently, and although Myka saw the two of them spoiling for a fight, she didn’t have it in her to reel them in. Let them fight it out if they wished: perhaps it would make everyone feel better.

“Gentlemen.” Shepherd Nielson’s voice was sharp and his reprimand was accompanied by a box being slammed down on the table.  All the assembled looked up, mollified and slightly confused. “I have an alternative to hoopball,” the Shepherd promised, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“What is that?” Claudia asked, gesturing towards the box in his hand and leaning forward, intrigued.

“A game.”

“Is it Triad?” Helena asked, her nose scrunching up in displeasure. “I’ve lost a lot of money to that game.”

“No. It’s not, but if you let me explain I can tell you what it is,” Shepherd Nielson said sharply. Helena rolled her eyes, but leaned forward, intrigued, anyway. Shepherd Nielson opened the box and took out the little stack of cards.

“This is a deck of playing cards,” he introduced them. Myka blinked, surprised.

“What?” She asked, disbelieving. She glanced around the table, but the rest of the group just stared in confusion. “From Earth-That-Was?” She clarified. Shepherd Nielson grinned.

“I knew you’d recognise them,” he chuckled. “Yes, from Earth-That-Was, though I don’t think these are actually from that god-forsaken wasteland. I bought these a couple of decades ago from a struggling musician who overcharged me for them.”

“From Earth-That-Was?” Claudia gaped and held out her hands to inspect them. Shepherd Nielson just guarded them closer.

“Patience,” he admonished her. “You can play thousands of different games with these,” he continued, holding out his cards again. “It’s actually surprising how many people still know card games.” He chuckled, remembering some of the stranger encounters his cards had bought him.

“Can we play with them?” Myka asked, tilting her head and bringing Shepherd Nielson back to reality. He smiled.

“Of course. I’ll teach you one of the simpler games today.” He handed the cards to Myka. “Give each player four cards,” he dictated. “Claudia, can you go and get five spoons?”

“But we’re six players?” Claudia asked, casting around the table.

“That’s the point,” Shepherd Nielson explained.

“I don’t get it,” Pete complained, accepting his cards from Myka.

“That’s because I haven’t explained it yet!” Shepherd Nielson snapped. Myka handed Helena her cards and grinned at her as the Shepherd Nielson began explaining the game.

Three hours later and Myka and Helena were battling over the last spoon, furiously discarding cards. Myka had three threes: where the fuck was that three. Pete was jeering them on, laughing at Myka’s competitive side, one he hadn’t seen in months.

Three: the fucking three of clubs, finally appeared and Myka lunged for the spoon, grasping it with a grin before Helena virtually  pounced  on her.

“Be careful of the cards!” Shepherd Nielson gasped as Myka slid on the floor, laughing almost hysterically as Helena tried to grab the spoon from her hand.

“That’s mine!” Helena wailed, dramatically. Myka continued to struggle, laughing.

“My spoon!” she defended it, but Helena managed to grab one of her wrists, holding it against the floor as she tried to pry the spoon out of Myka’s hand. Pete was nearly doubled over laughing as Myka tried to push Helena off her. Before Helena could claim her prise, the proximity alert started beeping quietly.

“oh shit, I’m meant to be flying this thing,” Helena panted, looking up at the ceiling. Myka pushed her shoulder playfully.

“Go fly, Pilot,” Myka commanded.

“Of course, Captain,” Helena winked, pushing herself upwards and sauntering out of the room confidently.

* * *

Helena could tell from the reflection in the glass that Myka was watching her fly. She gripped the control tighter and smiled tightly before she turned to look at Myka and took a deep breath. She’d been waiting all day for Myka to come and spend their habitual hour together in the evening to tell her something. “I’ve been called back.” Myka blinked, taken off guard.

“What?” Helena turned back to the controls, slowing down the ship and starting the automated route she had already mapped out that afternoon.

“I’ve been called back to Ariel for the cadet’s ball,” she sighed, flicking the blue switch.

“What?!” Helena twisted in her seat and fidgeted with her hands absently.

“My brother thought it would be honorable if I came back to deliver the speech at the graduation ceremony,” she explained, embarrassed.

“Oh, so you’re not leaving for good?” Helena laughed, looking up.

“Oh no, no just a weekend.” Myka nodded, fragile smile ghosting across her lips.

“Oh well, then yes, of course.” Myka stepped into the cockpit and crossed her arms, looking at the route Helena had plotted and nodding thoughtfully. She half leaned against Helena’s seat and trailed her hand along the control board. “I’m pretty sure Steve and Claudia would appreciate some shore leave on Ariel anyway.”

“So you’ll dock for the weekend?” Helena looked up, head tilted. Myka smiled down at her.

“Of course.”

“but you hate Ariel!” Helena protested. Myka laughed.

“Who says I will ever leave the ship?” Myka asked, raising her eyebrows. “I can make myself useful here and the weekend will be over before I know it.”

“Really? Cleaning for a whole weekend?” Helena didn’t look very convinced.

“And sleeping!” Myka added.

“You won’t go stir crazy?” Helena was quirking her eyebrow suggestively. Myka crossed her arms.

“No!” Helena hummed skeptically and Myka swatted her shoulder. Helena grinned.

“Not that I want to ruin any wonderful plans, but I actually have a counter-offer for you.”

“A counter-offer?” Myka leaned back, a small smile pulling at her lips. “I’m intrigued.”

Helena stood up, turning around to lean against the control board so she was on an even level with Myka. Myka tilted her head, curly hair falling over her shoulder. Helena grinned. “Would you like to accompany me to the Cadets ball?” Myka blinked, surprised for the second time in their conversation.

“Me?” She asked, confused.

“Yes!” Myka narrowed her eyes.

“Why?” She asked, slightly suspicious, crossing her arms. Helena stepped forward and carefully uncross Myka’s arms for her before she traced the captain’s stripes on Myka’s coat carefully.

“Not all the alumni of the academy are Federalists, you know,” she reminded Myka. She was pleased to see Myka’s eyes flicker down to her lips, gulping apprehensively. Helena stepped back again. “A lot of people remember you from your glory days.”

“Glory days?” Myka bristled. Helena grinned flirtatiously.

“Want to remind them who you are?” she offered. Myka tilted her head and sighed in resignation.

“Fine. I’ll go with you.”

* * *

“So.” Myka spun around, hand over her heart as Claudia ignored the last three rungs of ladder and dropped down next to Myka.

“You could knock, you know.” Claudia scoffed.

“Knocking is for losers, Myka.”

“Or lowly mechanics who don’t want to anger their captain?”

“Nope. They don’t really knock much. I consulted the ‘Lowly Mechanics Handbook.’” Myka chuckled and Claudia dropped down on Myka’s bed, disturbing the ferret who had been sleeping, curled up in the center.

“Hey Pete!” Claudia grinned at the animal and stroked him tentatively. She glanced up at Myka. “How’s he been doing?”

“He hates landing.” Claudia’s lip quirked up in a knowing half-smile.

“Who doesn’t?” She prodded the ferret and then lifted him on her lap. “It’s okay, little guy. It always takes a bit of getting used to. Real gravity feels so…heavy…in comparison to simulated gravity.”

“You know you can’t actually tell?” Myka asked, eyebrows raised. She turned back to her closet, muttering: “There is literally no difference.”

“Placebo effect,” Claudia dismissed. “What are you doing?”

“Looking at my closet.” Claudia rolled her eyes.

“Thank you for that. Why are we looking at your clothes?” She tilted her head, curiosity piqued. Myka shrugged, non-committally.

“I have a thing I have to get dressed for.”

“A “thing”?” Claudia held up her fingers to do the air quotes, but Myka was still scrutinizing her closet and so didn’t notice.

“Yeah, a thing.” Claudia grinned, intrigued and adjusted herself on Myka’s bed so she was sitting cross-legged.

“Spill!” Myka sighed and turned around. She scrunched up her face and shook her head.

“It’s a military thing?” She tried. Claudia scoffed.

“No it isn’t, Myka,” she dismissed. Myka shoot Claudia a glare. “What! It is common knowledge that your side lost, Myka…”

“Fine,” Myka frowned and then glanced at Claudia, almost shyly. “Helena’s taking me to the cadet ball.”

“What!” Claudia nearly rolled off Myka’s bed in her enthusiasm to stand next to her. “Let’s go find you something to wear.”

“It has to be a dress,” Myka explained with a frown. Claudia scoffed.

“You have dresses! You look good in dresses! This is easy!”

* * *

Myka’s purple dress was sleek and form fitting and approved by Claudia after nearly three hours of nitpicking and intense debates. She tried to cling to that as she stood at the edge of the giant ball room, surrounded by women who wore dresses like that was second nature to them. Myka enjoyed scanning the crowd and picking out other woman, mainly cadets too junior to wear their uniform, who had been forced, by convention, to wear dresses. She found solidarity in their envious looks at uniforms and fidgeted uncomfortably in her dress too.

“I don’t do balls,” she murmured under her breath, the comment not necessarily directed at anyone.

“Well, this is a great time to start,” Helena replied, appearing next to Myka, champagne glass in each hand. Myka took one gratefully and scowled at Helena, who looked beautiful and graceful as ever in her black uniform.

“Why?” Myka asked, taking one of the glasses out of Helena’s hand. Helena grinned.

“You look wonderful.” Myka rolled her eyes and sipped at the drink, sighing.

“I feel ridiculous. Why couldn’t I wear my uniform too?” She demanded, gesturing at Helena’s wonderful uniform.

“You may be my hero, but this is a Federalist Military Academy and I just don’t know how they would have dealt with your very attractive but also very Independent military uniform.” Myka rolled her eyes. “Also, bonus, you look great in a dress,” Helena added, stepping closer to Myka conspiratorially.

“Don’t get used to it,” Myka warned, turn her head slightly and grinning at Helena. Helena laughed and stepped closer again, threading a hand through hers and brushing Myka’s hair so it all fell from her right shoulder.. Myka looked down at their entwined hand, satisfied smile pulling at her lips.

“I won’t,” Helena agreed, affectionate smile pulling at Myka’s heart. She looked up and grimaced, letting go of Myka’s hand and stepping back slightly. Myka looked around, confused at the source of Helena’s sudden change. Helena nodded towards the shortish man in a long blazer heading towards him and grimaced. “Smile and be charming, darling: Charles is heading our way.”

“Charles?” Myka twisted her neck so fast she was worried about whiplash. “Here?” She turned back to appraise the man. “I’m meeting your brother?”

“Yes,” Helena straightened her jacket absently, “he’s one of the leading researchers here.”

“With your inventions?” Myka tried to suppress her smirk.

“Of course!” Helena shot Myka a secretive, but nervous, smile. “What would my silly brother do without me?”

“Silly?” Before Helena could answer with a no doubt eloquent retort, Charles was upon them, enveloping Helena into a powerful hug.

“Helena! Darling!” He broke away and ruefully grinned at her. “Great speech this afternoon: I especially liked the part of about your daring adventures with your dashing friend.” He winked at Myka. Myka looked away, embarrassed and unsure exactly how she should react to that…

“Charles,” Helena said warningly, turning to Myka: “let me introduce you to my companion, Captain Myka Bering. This is my brother, Doctor Charles Wells.” Charles bowed lavishly. Myka stretched out her hand to shake his, but he just held it  in his two hands and kissed it. Completely taken aback by the action, Myka shot Helena a wide eyed look of distress. Helena elegantly hid her smirk behind her glass of champagne.

“Captain Bering, it is an absolute pleasure to meet you,” Charles gushed. “I have heard you’re quite the hero.” Myka expected sarcasm. She expected some sort of mocking follow up. But Charles just stood there, genuinely smiling, genuinely praising her.

“Hero?” She asked, taken aback.

“The Battle of Shi?” He smiled. “I do know my military heroes, Ms. Bering. It is a requirement of my job…” Myka was stuttered, hand on her chest. She was amazed how much of Helena’s easy charm she saw in Charles. She looked down at the floor, shifting from one foot to another. It was a long time since anyone had recognised her for her military accomplishments.

“I’m flattered. And Impressed. I mean, you remember?” Myka looked up as Charles laughed again.

“I should be the one who’s impressed! The military planning in that battle was so impeccable that even with your superior officer down, you were able to secure the space station. Many people say you’re iconic win was the reason the rebel forces were able to fight back for so long.”

“Come now, Doctor, five years isn’t that long a time,” Myka admonished.

“You and I both know that is false modesty.” Helena frowned and snaked her arm around Myka’s waist, making her look up, surprised.

“Stop embarrassing her, Charles,” Helena snapped. Myka grinned as she realised that was a jealous note in Helena’s voice.

“I would never!” Charles protested. “You’re just jealous because I’m charming your date.” He winked at Myka as Helena huffed.

“I am not, now you should move along if you still want those schematics of the robot I’m working on.” Charles chuckled and raised his hands in defeat.

“I’m off. It was a pleasure meeting you, Ms. Bering.”

“Captain Bering,” Helena corrected icily.

“My apologies. Captain Bering.” Charles bowed lavishly and smiled at Myka secretively before he strode away, long coat tails flapping gracefully.

“I’m sorry about that,” Helena whispered, turning away from Myka and distancing herself again, letting go of her arm with painful slowness. Myka bit her lip to suppress the giant grin that was tugging at her lips.

“It’s okay,” Myka reached for Helena again, but Helena wasn’t looking, her eyes fixed on some distant entity across the ball room.

“He can be such a git,” Helena muttered as she started striding towards the drinks table. Myka followed her, a step behind, biting her lip.

“I thought he was quite charming,” Myka teased.

“He’s not,” Helena drained her champagne glass and put it on the edge of the table, picking up one of the crystal tumbler’s and holding it up to the light. It was clean. She poured herself out a glass of whiskey from the elaborate selection of alcohol on the table and offered Myka something, who declined. Myka tilted her head and watched Helena expectantly. “What?” Helena demanded.

“There really is no need to be jealous,” Myka assured her, leaning against the table with her hip.

“I’m not jealous!” Helena protested, crossing her arms protectively. Myka grinned and stepped towards Myka, carefully uncrossing her arms and stepping closer again.

“Good. Because I like you. I like you a lot.” The alcohol had loosened Myka’s tongue: it was either that or there was certain intoxication in Helena’s jealous assertion that Myka was hers (her captain; it had such a nice ring to it). Myka laid a hand on Helena’s bicep, carefully following the silken blazer up.

“Do you?” Helena asked, tilting her head. Her arrogant smirk belied the slight insecurity of her titled head. Myka smiled, warm breath expanding in her lungs as the ball, the people, the pomp of the situation quietly faded into the background.

“First Lieutenant Wells, there is no place in the world I’d rather be and no person in the world I’d rather be with. Even if your brother is more charming that you.” Helena laughed and turned towards the table.

“Fine. Fine, you can go dance with Charles then!”

“No, no no!” Myka slipped her hand into Helena’s. “You owe me at least one dance.” Helena rolled her eyes.

“Oh I see how it is! Now you want me to dance with you!” But she was grinning and lead Myka to the dance floor anyway.

* * *

 

It was a military events, so neat little carriages waited from them at the entrance: androids waiting for instruction to return to their ship. Myka would never admit how much the champagne was bubbling in her veins, but years and years of travelling with Pete had lowered her alcohol tolerance, making it hard to type in the parking code of their ship. Helena was little help; holding onto Myka’s arm, warm breath billowing into her neck, Helena laughed at  Myka’s third typo.

Finally, finally it worked, and the little carriage took off, speeding over blue metal streets that reflected the dancing lights of Ariel’s sky line. They sat back, leaving the pod open so they could stare up and enjoy the heaven’s intricate light show.

“I miss this, sometimes,” Helena murmured, head on Myka’s shoulder. Myka, completely blown away by the subtle shifts from aqua to indigo to cyan and then back again, was speechless.

“I have never seen this before,” she admitted, glancing down at Helena before he focus shifted to the sky again. Helena twisted in her seat to stare at Myka.

“Really?” She asked, horror and surprise clear on her face. Myka grinned at the skies.

“You forget, Helena. I didn’t grow up here!” Helena just continued stare at Myka, watching the curtains of light dance over her face.

“You’re so perfect,” she blurted out. There was just something so enamouring about Myka’s enthusiasm toward the light and the interplay across the horizon; something so fulfilling about the feeling of watching her past disappear in a show of lights, her future, her own choice promised somewhere along the road, and Myka, wonderful perfect careful empathetic guarded Myka next to her. Myka’s gaze shifted to Helena.

“What are you doing?” she asked, easy smile amplified by the dance of blue lights across your voice.

“Thanking you,” Helena murmured, leaning forward slightly and carefully rearranging one of Myka’s curls. She traced the side of her face and smiled, encouraged, as Myka leaned into her touch, lips slightly parted.

“No need,” Myka whispered, air barely escaping her lips before Helena gently kissed her. It was the easy progression of the night: suddenly, Helena felt like every event of the evening had lead to this moment, and she could think of nothing better. Myka shifted underneath Helena, pushing up and deepening the kiss as she nudged Helena’s lips apart. The carriage slowed and the momentum pushed Myka closer to Helena.

“Are we here?” Myka asked, breaking away and licking her lips, her eyes still focused on Helena. Helena noticed the clouds of Myka’s breath as she nodded, slowly standing up. She offered Myka a hand. Myka grinned and took it, jumping off the elevated carriage gleefully. Helena pressed the “return” button and they watched it speed back towards the direction of town. Myka pulled at Helena’s hand, playfully directing her attention back to herself.

“I’m cold,” she murmured, placing her arms around Helena as Helena stepped into her.

“We should go inside then,” Helena replied, nodding towards the hatch of the spaceship. Myka laughed.

“I would miss this beautiful night show, though!” she protested. Helena looked up and laughed, burying her face in the crook of Myka’s neck so she could nip at her neck, speaking between playful bites.

“It’s here,” bite, “every”, bite, “night, Myka.”

“Every night?” Myka asked, gulping.

“Every night,” Helena promised. Myka pouted, shivering as Helena left her neck to look at her, small red dots stark against her white skin.

“Fine, I’ll come in,” Myka sighed. Helena grinned and pulled Myka into the spaceship playfully.

The thick metallic door of the cargo-bay thudded shut with comforting finality. The cargo hold was cool, but an escape from the windy chill of the outside. Myka turned to Helena and playfully pushed her against the large metal door.

“Those bites on my neck better not bruise,” she whispered hotly in Helena’s ear, slowly unbuttoning the military blazer. Helena tilted her head to catch Myka’s eye.

“Why not?” she whispered back, half apprehensive. Myka grinned, teeth white and feral. She kissed Helena slowly, hand on the nape of Helena’s neck. Helena leaned back, allowing the slope of the slanted door to force Myka to lean on her more. Myka chuckled, deepening the kiss as she secured one hand under the now unbuttoned blazer on Helena’s dress pants. Her knee gently pushed Helena’s legs apart as she lightly sucked Helena’s bottom lip. Helena’s hips canted forward, pushed back down firmly by Myka’s hand.

Helena let out a strangled moan and Myka laughed. “Shush,” she admonished.

“It’s four in the morning,” Helena replied, her hand on Myka’s waist rubbing the purple silk up and down. Myka narrowed her eyes at her.

“Four in the morning is a time I expect it to be quiet,” she responded, slowly un-tucking Helena’s blouse.

“Who are you worried will catch us? You’re the –“ Helena’s reply was cut short as she gasped: Myka’s cold hand was on her bare hip. Myka leaned into her and kissed her slowly, thumb drawing burning circles into Helena’s side as she licked into Helena’s mouth.

“I’m what?” She asked, slightly breathless, left hand trailing down Helena’s jawline and index finger tracing her neck, stopping at the collar of the blouse. Myka slowly undid one button, then the next, before she looked up expectantly. Helena tried to regain control over her erratic breathing.

“The captain?” She offered, breathless. Myka hummed in agreement, carefully placing a kiss on Helena’s jugular. “My captain,” Helena corrected. Myka chuckled, her breath hot against Helena’s neck.

“Oh yes,” she agreed, right hand travelling up, over Helena’s ribcage and brushing the underside of Helena’s bra. Another button was undone, allowing Myka access to collarbones, She scraped her teeth down Helena’s neck: Helena shivered in anticipation, eyes fluttering shut.

“Myka,” Helena begged, quietly, grinding herself into Myka’s thigh. Myka laughed into Helena’s shoulder.

“I think we should move this to my cabin,” she whispered, leaning her cheek against Helena’s shoulder.

“Potentially,” Helena agreed. Myka straightened up, offering Helena a hand. Helena was happy to see that that hadn’t left Myka unaffected as they walked up the stairs: the hair at the nape of her neck was sticking to the back of her neck and there was a flush creeping up her chest. Once they were up on the gangway, Helena grabbed Myka’s hand and whispered in her ear: “I want to get you out of that dress anyway.” Myka grinned.

“I would not let you do that in the cargo hold.”

“Too cold?” Helena asked, raising an eyebrow. Myka just turned around and leaned on the ladder to go down to her cabin.

“Sort of,” she murmured, kissing Helena with a grin before she niftly climbed down. Helena followed suit. Myka’s cabin was the biggest cabin, but it was still tiny. Helena didn’t have much time to look around before Myka was pushing her blazer off. Helena cupped Myka’s face tenderly to kiss her again, anchoring her hands on the nape of Myka’s neck.

“Unzip me,” Myka commanded breathily, nudging Helena towards the bed. Helena chucked and fumbled with the zipper, pulling it down in one fluid motion in the same moment the hard metal edge of the bed jammed into the junction between her thigh and calves. She sat down awkwardly, pulling Myka’s dress down with her. The dress pooled on the floor and Myka stepped over it and quickly straddled Helena’s legs. Helena rested on hand on her naked thigh and another on her stomach she craned up to find Myka’s lips again.

Myka’s hair fell forward, tickling Helena’s shoulder. She removed her hand from Myka’s hip to push back her hair, trailing her fingers against her scalp. Myka moaned quietly into Helena’s mouth, and the sound became an electric shock to Helena’s system; all she wanted was to consume Myka, to hear that sound again, to hear that sound louder. She gripped Myka’s thighs and awkward pushed her sideways on the small single bed. Myka fell onto the bed with a quiet, “Oh.” She caught herself on her forearms and rolled onto her back, propping herself with her elbows so she could watch Helena. Helena peeled off her blouse, tangling it up in her arms and then flinging it across in frustration.

“You okay there?” Myka asked, smirking. Helena didn’t answer, she just turned back to Myka and kissed her, hard. She bit down on her lip again and sucked, getting another appreciative sound as Myka’s body surged into her. Helena position herself over Myka, one hand holding Myka’s hips down as another slowly palmed her breast over her skin-colored bra.

“Helena,” Myka gasped, mirroring Helena’s cry earlier, her hips yearning for friction as Helena’s pilgrimage down her neck revisited her earlier bite marks, ensuring that they would bruise. Myka’s breathing speed up and Helena trailed the hand on Myka’s hip down, to rest on the outside of her thigh. “Helena, stop it,” Myka begged, the command loosing severity in its breathless and desperate order. Helena stopped her wet litany of prayers and looked up, eyebrows raised.

“You want me to stop?” She asked, cocky. Myka exhaled sharply, her hips pushing upwards and straining for friction.

“I need –“ Myka began, losing her train of thought as Helena’s kisses trailed closer to her breast. Helena stopped at the interruption again, looking up with a grin.

“You need what?” She asked, hot breath creating goosebumps on pale skin.

“You to stop doing that,” Myka gasped. Helena chuckled and kissed Myka’s bra clad breast tenderly.

“Really?” She asked, licking the erect nipple and rubbing the lacy mattering against the sensitive skin. Myka made a sound and clenched the sheet. “You want me to stop?” Helena asked, very lightly biting through the material. Myka’s body straightened and she clencheed the cold metal bed frame as she keened quietly.

“Helena, I need you,” Myka complained, her hips pushing upwards again. This time Helena complied: Myka’s noises had left her skin tingling and her thoughts buzzing until all she could think of was Myka’s lithe body underneath her. She nudged Myka’s legs apart with her knee, readjusting herself over as her right hand ghosted down Myka’s body and anchored itself over the waist band of the lacy underwear.

“I like your underwear,” Helena murmured, readjusting her thigh against the heat of Myka. Myka groaned and arched into the touch, hear head pushed back on the pillow and her neck bared. Helena grinned and lightly and ran her left hand through Myka’s hair again. Myka leaned into the touch: she was flushed and her breathing was fast and fluttering, but when they made eye contact she grinned and looped an arm around Helena’s neck so she could kiss her again.

“I wore it for you,” she murmured, a hand trailing from the nape of Helena’s neck, through her hair, and ending on her cheek, a thumb tenderly tracing the cheekbone. Helena gulped.

“Me?” She asked quietly. Myka smirked triumphantly; her beautiful, shining smile that was usually accompanied by the slight ducking of her head glittering in her eyes. Tonight she maintained eye-contact, and Helena realised she’d never seen anything as beautiful. And all the wanted to do was convey that message to Myka. She smiled and leaned down again to kiss Myka again: she started with chaste kisses, at the corner of her mouth, at the other corner, right in the middle. And then she deepened them, languidly pressing her body against Myka, the soft fabric of her dress pants offering just enough friction to make Myka moan. When Myka began protesting again, Helena pushed her right hand under the slip, finding Myka hot and wet. Helena's two fingers over rubbed Myka's opening; watching, fascinated as Myka’s mouth made a small “o” and she pushed her hips upward. Helena slid inside her and began a slow rhythm, hand mimicked by hips, while below her Myka writhed, appreciative sounds becoming pleading becoming small, muffled sound of relief as she came undone around Helena’s hand, prompted by Helena’s palm against Myka’s clit, warm and insisting. Her body stiffened and shuddered with release as she quietly whispered Helena’s name and Helena swallowed the whisper with hungry kisses, drawing out Myka’s pleasure as long as possible.

Sweat was pooling on Myka’s clavicle: Helena watched the beads trickle down Myka’s neck and grinned. She slowly extracted her hand from Myka, immediately missing the heat. Myka caught her hand and brought her fingers to her own mouth, sucking the pad of Helena’s fingers, tasting herself on Helena's hand. Helena gulped, and Myka bite down on Helena's fingers playfully. Helena could feel the arousal in her blood stream peek.

“Helena?”

“Yes?” Helena had a hard time from keeping her eyes off Myka’s perfect lips. Myka was silent for a beat, so Helena looked up into her gossamer green eyes.

“You’re wearing too many clothes.”

* * *

“Myka!” The call was distant, and Myka tried to ignore it, burying her head in Helena’s shoulder. “Myka!” It came closer. “Pete ate all the pancake mix! Myka!” Thud. Myka rolled over, bleary eyed, clutching the thin sheet to her chest as she realised Claudia was standing right next to her ladder. Myka blinked, rubbed her eyes and threw a pillow over Helena’s stirring form. Too late.

“oH!” The look Claudia shot Myka was a combination of pure horror and supreme excitement. She immediately covered her eyes and turned towards the wall. “I’M SO SORRY MYKA!” The stage whisper, although spoken towards the wall, was clearly directed at Myka, who tried to find her bearings.

“Claudia? Clauds are you down there?” Pete’s call from the top of the ladder made both women look up, but before Claudia had even drawn a breath Myka hissed a reply.

“Don’t come down here!” Helena pushed herself on her elebows and looked between Myka and Claudia.

“What’s happening?” She asked, confused and concerned. “Do we have to leave?”

“Pete ate all the pancake mix,” Claudia told the wall, shuffling her feet. Helena laughed and fell back on the bed.

“Captain business?” She asked Myka, raising an eyebrow. Myka looked down at her, grin pulling at her lips as she surveyed Helena’s dishevelled state. She glanced back at Claudia.

“I’ll buy you pancake mix if you promise to knock next time you come in here.”

“Deal,” Claudia squeaked, clambering up the ladder, eyes still glued shut. Helena watched her go, bemused.

“No business you need to attend to?” she asked, smirking. Myka settled down next to Helena again and grinned, pushing back the strands of her hair carefully.

“None,” she sighed, happily; “none other than you of course, that is.” Helena laughed and threaded a hand through Myka’s hair, pulling her down for a kiss.

“I was hoping you’d say something like that…”

  
  
  


 


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